The Long And Lonely Story Of Trainer J
by Sugarflier
Summary: I sacrificed years of my childhood just to get a shot at pokemon training as a career. And I got that one shot. It was an arduous, gruelling process but it paid off, and now I can go and endure some of the most difficult, but also some of the richest years of my life. And maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky, there's a life in there for me too.
1. Chapter One

The Long And Lonely Story Of Trainer J

Chapter One

The Obligatory, Introductory Retrospection

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><p>Author's Note : My interpretation of the world of Pokemon. Original characters belong to me, everything else to NintendoGame Freak/Whatever.

Now this is yet another story by me. Starting yet another one is probably a bit ambitious, but I really like this idea so I'm going to go with it.

For a start, this takes place in a separate universe from most of my stories. A fair few of my other stories share a common universe, but this one is independent from the rest. It's a far more realistic, grounded and down to earth take on the world of pokemon. It's probably going to be more depressing and also duller than my other stories, with much less action and such, but I'm going to try a lot harder to make this a deeper story because I want it to be good. My other stories I'm just writing for fun really, but this is different. I am going to really try with this, which will mean updates will probably be even more scarce for this story than they usually are, because I'm not going to rush it, I'm going to take my time. Because I really want this to be good.

I should probably have split that into more than one paragraph somewhere.

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><p>My name is J. Pokemon trainer J.<p>

Actually, my name is not J. No. In fact, my name doesn't even begin with J. My name is going to remain a mystery to you, but for the duration of this long, long story, I am going to refer to myself as J. Trainer J.

All of the names in this story are fake, aside from the people who are in the public eye already. Because I don't want the people who inspired these characters to know that this story exists. I don't want them to read this and notice that they were part of the events of this story, I want them to read it and think nothing more of it. So, kindly, if I did base a character on you, shut up and ignore it.

But back to me, because this story is about me. My name is J and my title is trainer. Official title, just like doctor or professor. I am Trainer J. I can't repeat that enough times because I am proud as hell of my trainer status. Just like you would be proud of earning a doctorate, I'm proud of earning a license.

And you know how I earned that license? It's not as easy as people think. You don't just file for one and get it mailed to your door straight away. Nor is it as easy as just paying for one. No, no no no. On top of my crippling school work, I had to study pokemon. While my friends were out being stupid teenagers, I stayed in my house and read about the dietary requirements of crocodilians or the behavioural patterns of mustelids. I had to sit an honest to fucking God series of exams that made my school exams look like spelling tests. I had to take personality and aptitude tests to ensure that I was capable of being a trainer and everything. I spent years preparing for this. Years.

It was a gruelling process, but it finally paid off when I earned my trainer's license at only the age of fourteen. Most people wouldn't pass their test for another two or three years if they passed it at all - that is if they even chose to take the test - but I had put the work in and made the sacrifices throughout the years, so I got to go off early.

So, I left my home in Fuschia. I left the safari and the plains and the beaches and crammed my suitcase into a taxi after saying bye to my parents and giving each a brief hug. I loved my parents, but I was hardly sad at all to be leaving them. No, I was more preoccupied with the journey that lay ahead of me. They, of course, were near to tears but wouldn't stop telling me how they were proud and worried and happy for me and all the rest of it.

My friends were the ones that I didn't want to leave. I had never been good at making friends, so I treated the ones that I did have like the precious commodities that they were. How I was going to make friends whilst travelling across a different region, I had no idea. The thought scared me more than just a little.

One of the many tests that I had taken was the type test. It was a test that took lots of things into consideration - personality, qualities, skills and all the rest of it - in order to decide which type suits you most.

You see, you can't just grab whichever pokemon you want and start using it in competitive battling. No, people have affinities for the different types and will bond far better with that type and generally just get along more easily with that type. Of course, you can try to train a pokemon that you don't have an affinity for, but it's difficult and dangerous. It's generally accepted that the best way to train pokemon is to train your own type.

Of course, some people have more than one affinity. For example, it's common for dark type trainers to also have a ghost affinity, and vice versa. The same goes for rock, ground and steel, and also for grass and poison. There are people who have affinities for two opposite types as well, like fire and water, or something totally unconnected like electric and bug. Then there are the chosen few that have an equal affinity for all types and can train whatever the hell they want, as well the unlucky few that have no affinity at all and just generally suck with pokemon.

So, I had taken that test, I had received my results and I was now heading over to the gym of that type because it's the best place to start. And the taxi that I had just climbed into was taking me to the airport. My parents had offered to come with me, but I refused. I had to be independent if I was going to be a trainer.

"Off to meet somebody, eh?" The taxi driver guessed. He was an old guy with thinning hair, a white moustache and a pair of wire glasses. He seemed like a nice enough guy.

"Uh..." I started pathetically. I was not good at conversation. I froze up for a few seconds and felt all the blood rushing to my face. I was arguably the most awkward person I had ever known. "N-no. I'm travelling," I managed.

"On your own?" He asked sceptically.

"Mm-hm," I said, nodding a confirmation too. Good thing, since my verbal confirmation had probably been too quiet for him to hear. My social skills were really not up to scratch.

I think the driver took a note of the fact that I sucked at conversation because he didn't speak again for the rest of the journey. So, he drove while I stared out the window, looking at the city that I was born and raised in, the only city that I really knew, knowing that I wouldn't be back there for a long time. I felt scared. I had barely ever been outside of Fuschia before in my life. I wasn't sure what to expect.

I gave the taxi driver a tip, awkwardly pausing and stuttering as I did so. He said thanks before I finished talking, cutting me off and putting me out of my misery. He wasn't being rude, he just knew that I didn't want to be speaking and acted accordingly. It was the humane thing to do.

I was so helpless that I nearly forgot take my suitcase out of the car.

I was even more helpless than most fourteen year olds. I walked quickly through the airport, glancing around like a frightened rabbit. I was not in my comfort zone. Watching the people around me strut about, confident, knowing where they were going and how to act in such an environment, I felt out of my depth. I could feel myself start to sweat, purely from fear.

I walked quickly, desperate to just get to the bloody plane. I followed signs and I followed people and I used my problem solving skills, and I eventually made it to my destination with less than five minutes to spare. They rushed me through metal detectors and x-ray machines and checked my passport and training license and other forms, all the while asking me questions to which I would reply with a stuttering murmur. Eventually, though, the horror was over and they let me board the plane.

Inside, the plane looked a lot like a bus to me. Same sort of flooring and same sort of seats, except with folding tables and cup holders. It looked like a bus with three rows of seats really. So, I nervously made my way to my designated seat and couldn't help but feel that everyone I walked past was staring at me. I felt like they would laugh at me as soon as my back was turned. I was like that with people. I wasn't good with them, I was a nervous wreck.

When I found my seat, I found that it was empty. Thankfully. I wouldn't have known what to do if someone had taken my seat - back then, I wouldn't have had the confidence to stand up for myself and tell them to just fuck off. The seat next to me was empty as well. I was glad, and just hoped that it stayed empty. A plane journey with a total stranger was not a thought that appealed to me. But I waited and waited and the plane took off and no one claimed the seat next to mine. I couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over me.

I took my suitcase, retrieved a thick paperback from it and began reading. It was a book about a corrupt, violent, mentally unstable police officer and his devotion to the arcanine that he worked alongside. I was about halfway through it and the protagonist was currently blackmailing a fifteen year old girl into giving him a blowjob. His arcanine had just been diagnosed with inoperable bowel cancer so the protagonist was even more volatile than usual.

I read through the rest of DCI Dennis Logan's story and felt myself sympathizing with the detective, even as he bribed and blackmailed and schemed and beat and murdered and fucked his way to the top of the food chain. Nobody fucked with detective chief inspector Dennis Logan. Well, that is until he got on the wrong side of a gang who then butchered his arcanine. Dennis Logan found and slaughtered them before committing suicide at the climax of the novel.

Not the best book I had ever read, but it passed the time on the plane. I guess it had fairly depressed me, but depressed was better than bored.

Then the plane landed.

I felt like I was in a crowd of cattle being herded as I made my way off the plane - all those people in front and behind me, all directed toward a common destination by a handful of people. I don't know, maybe I was thinking too much. That has always been a terrible habit of mine, and one that I retain to this day.

Again, I was searched. By hand, by metal detector, by x-ray, by everything. Exactly like coming onto the plane, but in reverse. But I carried no drugs on me. No foreign fruit or animals. No weapons. Nothing, so they waved me off and left me to fend for myself in a city - scratch that, an entire country - that I had never been in before.

And before me stood Goldenrod City. One of the biggest industrial cities in the known world, along with one of the foremost experts on the normal type - Whitney.

I stood just outside the airport, feeling like I was frozen in time. Everyone was moving, lugging suitcases behind them or wearing rucksacks or carrying briefcases, entering and exiting the airport and leaving for new countries and going back home and their children waddled by their side or sulked or maybe just acted like regular kids and I just stood there, staring. Goldenrod was magnificent.

In front of me was just a beautiful collage of buildings, some tall, some small, some in between, some old, some new, some hard to tell, but all were beautiful examples of architecture. And the two most prominent could be seen above everything else from the ground - the Goldenrod department store and the radio tower. Both were behemoths that lorded over the rest of the city, as if they knew they were the most important.

Along with studying Pokemon and everything about them, I had studied the region of Johto extensively. I knew I'd have to be travelling there one day, and so I was made to learn about it. Learn about every town, every city, all the notable citizens, everything. I knew that Whitney's gym was north of the department store and east of the radio tower and that once I got closer, I'd probably be able to see the gym - it was a fairly large building.

So I walked and I looked up at the buildings and the sky and looked at the people and just felt overwhelmed. This place was just colossal. I felt humbled even being in such a massive city. It felt like a city built for people greater than me.

And I walked for maybe half an hour. I did get lost a few times, but I always knew roughly where I was going, despite the size of the city. The distance wasn't enough to defeat me.

So when I got to the gym, I just stared. More than any of the other incredible buildings in the city, I fell in love with this one. A giant of a construct, most of its size was in its width and length, not its height - four storeys high if I remember rightly. I knew already that it had an extensive network of underground rooms and chambers and that it was designed to withstand even the most explosive of pokemon battles.

So, I made to push open the doors and stride in, but then found that the doors were automatic just as I went to push them. I lost my balance and stumbled ungracefully into the reception.

"Can I help you?" The man at the desk asked me with a sigh. A receptionist, what a soul destroying job.

"Em..." I started, then froze up. My face was burning after my almost fall and I felt...not awkward, but stupid. Laughably stupid. I felt like he wanted to laugh at me. "Yeah, I'm a trainer," I told him. He looked at me expectantly. I didn't know what else to say beyond that. I didn't know if I was supposed to ask to see Whitney or for a room or for a fucking information pamphlet or what. And he continued to look at me expectantly.

"So, do you want me to try and get Whitney or do you know what you're doing?" He asked me. What a stupid question, of course I didn't well know what I was fucking doing. I nodded my head, with a weak "Yeah," that he probably didn't even hear, too scared to attempt real conversation again.

I knew all about the geography of Johto. I knew all about life or death survival situations. I knew all about pokemon and plants and bacteria and ecosystems. I knew about all the citizens of note in Johto. Christ, I knew how to look after myself if I had to live alone. All my learning and studying and all those tests and exams had taught me all of that. But they missed out the most important thing of all: social skills. I was a social disaster.

"Hey, there's a trainer here that wants to see Whitney, I think he's new," the receptionist said down the phone, then waited for a reply. He was in his twenties, with a good tan and toned, muscular arms. He had jet black hair that he kept up with gel in a modern style that probably took him about four hours every morning. He had a thin coating of stubble on his face - I wasn't sure if it was deliberate or if he had just forgotten to shave - and there was a small bird tattooed on his forearm with a phrase in a language that I couldn't read underneath it.

He was good looking, confident, young, healthy and I was jealous of him. I wished I looked like that, yeah, but more than that, I wished I had his confidence. He could talk to people, and that just seemed so amazing to me. How could you approach a total stranger, open your mouth and just start to converse with them? How could you be so confident in yourself that you didn't freeze up and feel like an idiot? How could you walk down the street without thinking and fearing that everyone was laughing at you behind your back? I would have given anything for that kind of confidence, anything in the world. I'd have given a kidney or a testicle or even my license for just regular old confidence.

"Right, thanks Alicia," the receptionist said down the phone then hung up. I looked at him expectantly, then cast my gaze down to the floor when I realized I was doing so, embarrassed. "She's in the end room just down the hall from here," he told me, smiling and pointing down said hall.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I left to go find said room. I wished I could give someone a real, sincere thank you, but all I could put together were mumbles.

So I made my way down the corridor, head down and hands jammed in my pockets, nervous. I passed door after door until I came to the one at the end and I just stood there for a few minutes. My hand was raised, ready to knock, but I was too scared to actually do so at first so I just stood there and breathed, trying to gather the courage to knock. And eventually, I knocked, almost involuntarily.

"Come in," came a woman's voice from inside the room. I gripped the handle, took a deep breath and pushed the door open to reveal a living room. There was a glass coffee table between two leather couches and a cream carpet. The only thing on the plain white walls was a mounted plasma screen TV. I could see a kitchen through an open door to one side and there was a closed door at the other side - what lay behind that was a mystery to me.

And on one of the couches sat Whitney, an ash tray on the table in front of her and a cigarette dangling between her lips. She was a tall, slim girl in her early twenties, with shoulder length light brown hair and hazel eyes. She wore a pair of old, beat up, black baseball boots, faded skinny jeans and an off-white vest. This was a surprise.

"You can stop staring, I know I look different in the ads, we all do," she grunted. Different was an understatement. On the TV Whitney had pink hair tied up in two bunches and had pink eyes. She tended to wear bright shoes, trendy jackets, short shorts and long, colourful socks. And she always seemed to be a bubbly, ditzy girl on TV, but that's not the air she was giving off now.

It was definitely her, her face was the same. It's just that everything else was so normal.

"So, you're the new arrival to our wonderful gym?" She asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, standing up and stretching. I nodded hesitantly. "You new to training?" I nodded once again, this time a little more confidently. "You're going to suck," she told me. "Welcome to the club."


	2. Chapter Two

The Long And Lonely Story Of Trainer J

Chapter Two

And One Day A Man Proclaimed "I Shall Own The World"

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><p>I was speechless. When I arrived, I had not expected to be told that I sucked. No, I was expecting encouragement and guidance, I had not expected to be put down.<p>

Then Whitney noticed my look of hurt and her eyes just seemed to soften just a little.

"I take it you've got a normal affinity?" I nodded, confirming her guess. "Lucky you," she deadpanned. Never before had I met someone who had such a raw capacity for sarcasm. Then again, meeting people was not my speciality, so what the hell did I know? "Normal's not a good type," she opined. I felt my confidence depleting the more she talked. "I mean, what talented trainers train normal types?" She asked me.

"There's you," I pointed out, cheeks burning as I said it. Why the hell did I say that? Compliments were not my strong suit. She gave a dry laugh.

"Thanks, but I'm not all I'm cracked out to be," she admitted. "The only skilled normal type trainer I've ever met is Norman from Hoenn," she told me. "Lenora didn't have a fucking clue," she almost spat. "And Cheren's about as good as I am - hint: we're not very good, we're really just Norman fanboys," she went on, smiling a little.

"I..." I started, but I didn't know what to say. She had just told me that I was never going to get anywhere after working for years to pursue this as a career. I felt close to tears.

"The normal types drew the short straw, kid," she announced, louder and livelier than before. "I'm just telling you not to expect great things to happen. Don't bet on becoming a champion or an elite or a frontier brain, because normal types suck," she continued. "I mean, I love my team, but their type was in the shallow end of the evolutionary gene pool, you know what I'm saying?"

I nodded once, quickly, biting my lip. I had no clue what the hell to say. I couldn't even make conversation when people tossed me softballs like "Hey, how was your day?" How the fuck was I meant to respond to what she had just said?

"Then again, you might have a shot at leader of this gym whenever I retire," she chuckled. "Not like it's a job that anyone in their right mind would want, mind you, it's a fucking joke," she added, then took a long draw on her cigarette.

The word that jumps to mind when I think of Whitney now is stressed. Just a stressed, tired, cynical young woman that was forced to dress up and act like a ditzy little girl for the sake of publicity. Not like she had a choice in the matter, she'd have trouble keeping her job otherwise.

"So what do you need?" She asked me, stubbing her cigarette out on the coffee table. I repeat, on the coffee table. Not on the ash tray that sat on the coffee table, but on the coffee table itself. If there's a gesture that says 'I don't give a fuck' more clearly, I've yet to find it.

"Em..." I trailed off, both because talking wasn't a skill I had mastered and because I wasn't actually sure what I needed and had to think about it.

"We can give you a pokemon," she offered, looking at me expectantly.

"Yeah, thanks," I said weakly, nodding my head. What else did I need? I needed a room. The media portrayed the pokemon gyms just like battlegrounds, but that wasn't how it was. No, the primary purpose of the gym was as a training facility for trainers. Trainers were given free room and board until they earned their badge. In the meantime, they'd just train until the leader felt they were good enough to earn their badge. During that time, the gym leader acted as their mentor, encouraging, guiding and teaching the younger trainers. And all of this was paid for by the battles held at gyms. Leaders and elites and champions and brains would travel to different towns or cities, countries, even continents to battle other professionals for public entertainment on the gym battlegrounds. It provided the gyms with the funding that they needed to help younger trainers become great - after all, pokemon training was the world's most watched sport and it paid well.

Well, that's what I knew at the time anyway. It's actually far more complicated than that, but at the time I had a very basic understanding of it.

"You coming or what?" Whitney asked me from the door, one eyebrow raised in question. I nodded erratically and scurried after her.

"Where are we going?" I asked timidly, feeling my cheeks burn. I felt embarrassed just speaking on account of how rarely I did it. I heard my voice and just felt like the biggest idiot in the world. I felt like my voice was too deep in pitch and I thought I sounded stupid. Not that was the main problem - the main problem was of course my crippling shyness.

"I'm taking you on a trip to the zoo," she almost sang. Yeah, she was definitely getting livelier.

The zoo turned out to be an amalgamation of a cattery, kennels, hutches and whatever else things can live in. It was just one big massive room with each pokemon in a separate living space, each of them isolated - set free they would probably tear each other apart.

Whitney just stood there, a few feet inside the room. I stood behind her, waiting for her to do something so that I could follow her lead.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She asked me, gesturing to the room with a sweep of her arm. "Go," she prompted me.

"I...I'm allowed to pick one?" I asked, knowing full well that was exactly what was going on. I did that sometimes - just to make sure I hadn't misinterpreted something, I'd ask for reassurance of something perfectly obvious.

"Pretty much. I'd make sure it's friendly first, though," she advised. "There's nothing worse than a teddiursa growing up to be an ursaring that would just love to tear you a new arsehole," she added, as if she was talking from experience, as if an ursaring had once before torn her a new arsehole.

I nodded my understanding. Body language was much preferable to verbal language. I didn't need to really think about it and it didn't make me scared as hell. It wasn't intimidating in the same way that verbal language was.

So I wandered around the zoo, peering into the cages that housed the widest variety of pokemon that I had ever seen in real life - although that wasn't even that much, admittedly. The zoo was largely dominated by the little problem rodents. The rodents that were almost overrunning certain towns and cities. The rodents that no trainer wanted on account of the mistaken belief that they were weak - in truth, they were just as capable as any other pokemon.

I crouched down and peered into the cage of a rattata. The rat was maybe a foot long, mainly purple with a cream underside. It was fairly unremarkable. Well, that was until it bared its teeth at me. Teeth that I knew were just as deadly as those of any predator. Sure, the rattata couldn't tear and rend flesh like a luxray, and nor could it snap a bone in half like a feraligator, but it could just gnaw all the way through a limb or remove a digit with a quick snap of its jaws.

However, it was currently baring those teeth at me so I moved on.

The next pokemon I looked at was a sentret. At first I thought it looked promising - I had always liked sentret and even had a pet one when I was a kid - but on closer inspection it was a thin creature, with thinning hair that was graying in places and back legs that didn't quite move right. He was an old boy - the legs weren't working quite right because he was in the early stages of spinal cord degeneration, a condition experienced primarily by the males of the species. Better to just leave the old boy to die in peace.

In total, I spent over an hour looking through the zoo. I wasn't just going to pick the first pokemon that tolerated me - no, I was going to make sure that my first pokemon was the best one possible. And eventually I discovered a zigzagoon. A burly little brown and cream raccoon with striped, bristly fur and a black mask pattern on its face. It liked me - it was up at the bars of its cage, sniffing at my fingers curiously. I smiled at it.

This little guy was not my starter.

As I was admiring the zigzagoon - it was an impressive specimen, easily bigger and stronger than the average of its species - an adamant meow distracted me. I whipped round and peered into the eyes of a stubborn, cream-coloured cat in a cage. It was sitting up proudly, staring at me with unblinking eyes. Its tail was sweeping back and forth slowly, but it was barely moving apart from that. Stubborn. Challenging. Intelligent. Strong.

This nasty little bitch was my starter.

"This one," I announced with rare confidence. I knew I wanted her.

"What one?" Whitney shouted. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her making her way through the zoo, trying to locate me and my new starter. "Oh," she said, surprised. "You're not a total retard, well done." I wasn't sure what to make of that really.

"Uh..." I started, not exactly sure what I was going to follow that up with. In the end, it didn't matter because Whitney interrupted me.

"I figured that - like most new half-wits - you'd go for a slakoth or a munchlax or something 'cause, you know, they're pretty kick-ass pokemon," she explained. "I mean, at least half of the spastics I give pokemon out to look for that kind of thing straight away, forget about the fact that they're pretty much temperamental assholes, you know?" I nodded uncertainly. "Not like we ever have many of those in here, if any at all, we ain't made of money. Course the fucking asshats that come in here rarely seem to realise that." She was throwing insults around so freely that I was getting nervous in case any were aimed at me.

Whitney moved past me and crouched down in front of the meowth's cage. "33B..." She muttered to herself. "Come with me," she ordered me, standing up and walking swiftly to the back of the room.

She took me to a huge glass case filled with pokeballs of every kind. Most were the standard red and white variety, but the primarily blue and white great balls weren't uncommon either. There were a few grey, yellow and white ultra balls dotted about too, as well as some miscellaneous specialised balls.

She fished some keys out of her pocket, located the right one and unlocked the case. She slid the case open and picked out a regular pokeball within about ten seconds.

"Here you go," she said, handing it to me. I took it in one hand and was surprised by the weight. It was a baseball sized metal ball, the top half red, the bottom half white. There was a white button on the front of it that could both minimise it and return the pokemon that belonged in it. The digits "33B" were engraved on the front in plain, block capitals, but aside from that there wasn't a scratch on it. It was all new, shiny chrome.

I think I might have just stared at the beautiful piece of technology for too long because when I looked back up, Whitney was staring at me and it looked like she had been waiting a while. I felt my face redden with embarrassment.

"Come with me," she instructed, turning on her heel and walking out. I followed obediently. On the way she snatched the pokeball back from me - I wanted to punch her when she did so but managed to refrain from actually doing so - and returned the cat to the ball with the press of a button and a flash of red light, after which she returned it to me. I paid attention to where we were going when we left the room. We passed reception and the handsome receptionist again, then ascended a flight of stairs. We climbed to the third floor and she led me through a series of white walled corridors dotted with a series of light brown wooden doors. I remembered the route for the most part.

And eventually she led me to a room labelled '16C'. It was essentially a dormitory. There were two bunk beds in the little room, an adjoining microscopic bathroom and a TV that looked like it may or may not work. Not that I was complaining since I didn't have to pay for my stay.

"Break anything and I'll break your fingers," Whitney warned me casually when she opened the door. There's very little in the room to break, I thought to myself. I didn't dare say it out loud, though. "Okay," I said uncertainly and nodded my head hesitantly as she left.

The only bed in the room that was actually made was the lower bunk of the bed on the left - the rest had all been slept in. I claimed that one as my own.

I didn't have much in the way of belongings, so unpacking was quick at least. My trainer's license was already in my pocket. I had my clothes, of course - a few pairs of jeans and a variety of shirts and t-shirts as well as some underwear. There was my ancient brick of a phone that I barely knew how to work and I had brought three books with me - the one I had read on the plane and two others that I hadn't started. I located a chocolate bar that seemed to have eluded me while I was on the plane and found a new notepad and pen. That was it. All my belongings.

I noted that I had only the one pair of shoes - the ones on my feet - and resolved to purchase another pair at some point.

I walked to the minuscule bathroom, locked the door behind me and turned the shower on. I tested the water with my hand a couple of times and stripped down after I decided it was warm enough. And as I stepped into the shower, a wave of fear crashed down on me along with the water.

I had moved out.

I was starting my career.

I was alone.

I had only been at this for a few hours.

I was screwed.

So I just stood in the shower, the water running down my face and back and I thought. There was a knot in my stomach and my breathing was deeper and quicker than it usually was. I was panicking. So I stopped thinking. I just cleared my mind and focused on my breathing until it steadied somewhat. I still felt panicky, my breathing still wasn't totally normal and my stomach still had a little knot in it, but I was getting it under control.

Yeah. Under control. Done.

I stayed under the water for a long time. Maybe an hour or so. I was like that with water. If I ever went into a shower or bath, I never wanted to come out again. Even if the water started to get colder, I'd stay in it until I was close to freezing. I liked the water.

I stepped out, dried off, redressed and walked out and met my room mate. Well, one of them. That was something I had not expected.

"Hey," he greeted me with a hesitant wave of his hand. I quickly judged that he wasn't the particularly social type either. He didn't exactly scream 'socially awkward' but there were just a few hints of it. There was an uncertainty about him, like he knew what he was supposed to do but didn't quite feel comfortable actually doing it. His wave had been half hearted, like he wasn't really sure what he was doing. He point blank refused to make eye contact too. "I'm Luke," he added, louder, clearer, more confident this time. Awkward, but clearly not cripplingly shy like I was. It seemed he'd had more practice with people than I had too.

Luke was tall. Really tall. He must have been near six feet and he probably wasn't finished growing. He was skinny. In shape - his arms were toned and veins were popping out of them everywhere - but nonetheless skinny. I guessed he was just built that way. I judged that he was older than me too, but not by much. He didn't have any facial hair, so he couldn't have been that old, I thought. His hair was longer, like mine, and brown, also like mine, but his was dark while mine was light. A fringe fell across his forehead, but didn't fall into his green eyes, while the rest of his hair framed his long, tanned face. I couldn't help but think he was a somewhat good looking guy - and before you jump to any conclusions, noticing that a fellow male of the species is attractive does not necessarily mean that I'm gay.

"Uhh," I croaked, eyes wide. I hadn't expected to be confronted with an unfamiliar human being so soon. I was taken unaware and I wasn't ready for this. I managed to blurt out my name eventually. My voice was cracking and I could feel myself starting to sweat. Straight after a shower too.

He nodded, seemingly more for his own benefit than mine - an act of body language could often times save someone from having to speak, I would know, I had used the trick enough times.

We stood there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact, neither one of us wanting to speak. I had to say something, this guy was my room mate. I had to bloody say something. Topics. Topics of conversation. Friends? No. Interests? Hobbies? No and no. Home life? No fucking way.

"How long have you been training for?" I asked hesitantly, my voice sounding too stiff, my words too dull, like they had been hastily rehearsed inside my head - which they had. Pokemon was a good topic for trainers, we all wanted to talk about it. I hoped to everything I had faith in that just this once this would start an easy, halfway decent conversation.

"Just about five months," he replied, seemingly a little more comfortable. "I just got my first badge last month," he added, a flicker of pride flashing across his face. "You?"

"I only started today," I answered shortly. What the fuck else could I even add to that? I really wasn't good at this. "W-what gym did you come from?" I blurted out as the thought occurred to me, just as he opened his mouth to say something else. This was going okay at any rate. Well, so far.

"Ecruteak," he replied, then paused. Trying to think of more to add to that. I knew the feeling - conversation just really did not come easily.

"What's Morty like?" I asked hesitantly, trying to help him along. He broke into a wide grin at that.

"Aw, man, Morty's fucking amazing!" He sounded more confident and lively than he had since the conversation started. I was happy to have been of help. "Oh my God, he's -" Luke started, then cut himself off. "Nah, I'm not giving you any spoilers actually," he decided. "Just wait until you meet him." He was grinning so wide by now that I thought his face might rip. I was struggling to think of a reply, and probably wouldn't have come up with one at all if Luke hadn't spoken again first. "You finished in the bathroom?" I nodded a confirmation and stood aside to let him past, noticing only then that he was wearing sweatpants and was soaked in sweat.

So, having washed, unpacked and met my room mate, I did what I had waited for years and years to do. I fished the pokeball out of my pocket, admired the shine that the chrome gave off again and hurled it at the floor. There was a loud thud as it hit the floor and bounced, then a blinding flash of light and suddenly my pokemon was in the room.

I just barely managed to catch the pokeball on its bounce back up - not like that was my main concern.

She was big for a female of her species. Hell, she was bigger than most males of the species too - her shoulder was about level with my knee. Smooth, short, clean cream fur covered her entire body - unusual, most members of her species had some brown on them somewhere, often the tail. Her eyes were unusual too - green, instead of the normal blue. And those eyes, she could have stared down anything with those eyes. There was a circular coin, pure gold, embedded in her forehead, gleaming despite the low light - easily the species' most notable feature.

And it wasn't a big thing. There was no instant friendship. Nor was there a rocky start. She didn't panic or lash out and attack me. She did nothing at all out of the ordinary. She sat there on her haunches, straight up, proud, staring me down. And when I eventually looked away, she lost interest. She turned swiftly and jumped up onto the top bunk of one of the beds and went to sleep. One of my room mates' beds.

I just shrugged to myself. I didn't feel up to the task of trying to move the stubborn creature, so instead I just stripped to my underwear and climbed into the bottom bunk that I had claimed as my own, leaving one of my room mates to deal with the cat that had invaded their bed. Oh well, I was tired and it was getting late anyway.

* * *

><p>I awoke with a...not quite a scream, but close enough, about twelve hours later, which was roughly half nine in the morning.<p>

I. Was. Soaked.

And Whitney stood over me, an empty pint glass in her left hand, cigarette held delicately in her right. "Morning," she smiled brightly. I was so flustered, all I could do was pull the covers up to hide my bare torso - I wasn't exactly comfortable having my bare torso on display in front of any girl, much less the leader of Goldenrod gym.

"She does it to everyone on their first morning," someone called from somewhere - one of my room mates, I assumed, although not Luke as I didn't recognise the voice.

And I still wasn't sure what to do. I just sort of looked around uncertainly, eyes wide. I saw an older trainer - maybe sixteen or seventeen - with a pink and purple fringe sitting on the edge of the top bunk of the bed opposite mine. He was fiddling with his phone, jabbing buttons on the top and the side of it. Eventually, he started slapping the thing. That seemed to do the trick because he put it back in his pocket afterwards.

"Hey Whitney!" Someone else called. This wasn't the same voice from before. No, this voice was deeper.

"What?" She called back to him, turning around. While she was distracted, I reached down and pulled my t-shirt from yesterday over my head, hiding my bare skin. I felt substantially better after that.

"That's me heading," The trainer told her, stepping towards the door. He was much older than I was. Late teens, maybe even early twenties. He was tall, well over six feet - if I had to guess, I'd put him closer to six and a half. And not just tall, he was broad too. He was built big and had put on the muscle to match his frame. I didn't miss the five pokeballs clipped onto his belt. I got the impression that he was good just by looking at him.

"Oh?" A look of dismay crossed her face. "Well, bye Sean," Whitney smiled, an expression of genuine warmth. "Good luck, I'll miss you." Sean smiled once in return, pulled the door open and left. Whitney followed a few minutes later.

With Whitney gone, I could finally get up and get dressed. I tore off the dirty t-shirt that I had pulled on just to cover myself up and selected a fresh one instead.

"Sean left," pink and purple fringe announced as the bathroom door opened. Luke stepped out, hair dripping wet, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist.

"And there goes the only talented trainer in the whole gym," he replied with mock dismay, pulling on a pair of boxers underneath his towel.

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated," pink and purple replied, briefly looking up from his phone.

"It's true though," Luke opined, tugging on a pair of faded jeans. "I mean, Whitney's been fussing over the guy for months like he's a champion in the making or something when he's really not," he continued. He was currently stuck with the dilemma of which t-shirt to choose - the torn one or the dirty one. In the end, he chose torn.

"Debatable," pink and purple disagreed, this time not even deigning too look up from the little screen.

"Oh come on, are you serious? Fair enough, the guy's an electric trainer, that's something, but he's not exactly a tactical genius," Luke argued as he pulled on his socks. "I mean, you saw him training and you saw his gym challenge. Ninety percent of the time he sends his electivire out to just steamroll whatever's standing in front of it. He thinks the fucking thing's indestructible and it's going to get the poor bastard killed one day," he explained. "Stupid fucker," he finally finished as he tied the laces of his trainers.

Gone was the awkward Luke that I had walked into yesterday. In front of me stood a confident young guy with maybe too much to say for himself and just the right amount of arrogance. Maybe I had taken him by surprise yesterday or something, or maybe it was just that he was used to and comfortable around pink and purple seeing as they were room mates.

Pink and purple didn't look happy at Luke's opinion of Sean, but there wasn't much that he could do about it. Going by what I had just seen in Luke, I got the impression that he would just tell pink and purple to fuck right off if he had said anything to him.

Meanwhile, I had also finished getting ready. I was wearing a new pair of jeans and a pale blue t-shirt with my baseball boots - as I mentioned before, those were the only shoes that I owned.

"Hey, Stella," Luke called, looking around the room for a bit. "Hey, Stellaaaaaaaa!" Louder this time. A few moments passed before something scurried out from underneath his bed. It was an orange dog with black stripes and a fluffy, cream mohawk and a bushy tail of similar fur. It was pretty big, just above knee height, round about the same as my own pokemon. Luke didn't praise her when he saw her coming. Instead, he just turned towards the door and whistled sharply. The dog followed without question.

Meanwhile, I had just managed to locate my new pokemon and return her to her ball.

So, Luke had a fire affinity? Not a bad deal. Certainly beat the hell out of what Whitney and I were stuck with.

"Hey, wait a sec," pink and purple called to Luke, who was already out the door. He jumped from his bunk, patted his pockets to make sure he had everything and then ran out the door after Luke. "You coming?" He called to me as he left, seemingly more as an afterthought than anything else.

I jumped from my bed and followed, not really sure what else to do. I didn't catch right up to the other two for fear of having to talk to them, but I still stayed close so that I could follow them. You know, not like I knew my way around yet.

We descended to the ground floor and approached the west wing of the gym before the other two finally came to the door that they wanted.

I had seen this room a hundred times before in photos and in videos and documentaries, but it was so much more appealing in real life. It didn't look any different to what it did on the screen, but you couldn't feel the atmosphere of somewhere over a screen. And the atmosphere here was electric.

The room was massive. Massive. There was a high roof, scaffolding everywhere, mats placed down everywhere, even a pool or two dotted about the place. And everywhere, crude battlefield boundaries had been drawn on the concrete floor with chalk. It smelled like bare stone and sweat and smoke. I loved it.

This was the main training room in the Goldenrod gym. It wasn't decorated nice like the rest of the gym - not much point, seeing as things routinely got destroyed in here. It was made for practicality, not style. And practical, it certainly was.

There were dozens of gym trainers in here already, but few pokemon - and the few that were out were sitting quietly, obedient. Whitney, too, was there. More important that Whitney, though, was the Pokemon that was with her. She was a gargantuan ungulate, nearly as tall at the shoulder as Whitney was. Her thick, pink skin was dotted with jagged, black shapes in a seemingly random pattern. Her substantial belly, though, was yellow while most of her head was a solid black, with two gleaming white horns sticking out of her skull. The cow looked around slowly, like she was just looking for something to beat up. This was Whitney's miltank, her first pokemon, her strongest pokemon, the cornerstone of her competitive team, Taegan, also known as the Mother Superior.

To see the great beast in person was an honour. Even from such a distance. I had heard the tales about this creature. She could heal herself from more or less any injury in little to no time. She was very, very difficult to stop. Admittedly, not many pokemon had managed it on their own. One of Champion Lance's dragonites had did it once, as had Leader Brock's onix and - somehow - Morty's gengar. Aside from those three, no others came to my mind. And aside from the ones that had beaten her, she had also taken hits from Jasmine's steelix, Bruno's machamp, Lt. Surge's electabuzz, countless others and still managed to remain standing. She really was a force to be reckoned with.

In the distance, I saw Whitney's mouth moving, but I couldn't hear a thing over everyone else. She tried shouting a few more times, but her attempts to be heard were unsuccessful. Then a pink creature waddled out from behind her. It was just about two feet tall, pale pink, flabby skin, beady eyes, a large mouth and stubby limbs. It looked more like a cartoon character than a living thing.

Another member of Whitney's competitive team, but hardly in the same league as Taegan. Her clefable was certainly a powerful pokemon, but not anything extraordinary. I couldn't really recall a whole lot about the creature apart from the fact that it was a pretty average battler by all accounts.

"Listen!" It bellowed in Whitney's voice, reaching even right to the back of the hall. Everyone shut up when that happened. "Right," the clefairy boomed, and I realised that when Whitney spoke, her clefairy repeated it in Whitney's voice immediately after, except amplified so that everyone could hear. "Basically, new guy," she - they? -said to the crowd. "He's at the back," she pointed out ever so helpfully. I felt all eyes turn towards me and wanted to crawl under a rock and die. "There's no doubt in my mind that he knows what he's doing, but a bit of help from someone a bit older and wiser never hurt anyone, so lend him a hand, yeah?" There was a general murmur of agreement from everyone in the room. "And another thing, if I see anyone taking the piss, I'll personally punch absolute fuck out of them," she added, face totally straight. "And those of you who know me know that I'm actually not kidding." I didn't doubt her for a second.

And that was the end of it. Everyone got down to training and a few of the ones in my immediate vicinity took special interest in me. I was expecting a lot of sparring and mock battles and the like, but the reality was just a lot of people repeating words to pokemon and trying to demonstrate what said word meant. A few of the more advanced trainers were engaging in mock battles with other trainers, but they were the minority.

For my part, I hadn't even released my pokemon yet. There was so much pressure. Four or five trainers had gathered around me and were firing out questions and pieces of advice so rapidly that I was having trouble processing it all while I felt obligated to mumble responses and answers to their questions. I could feel myself sweat and blush and I hated it all. I just wanted to disappear. To not be there.

Don't get me wrong, they were all nice. They were all just trying to help a novice out and make me feel like one of them, but it had the effect of making me feel like the world's greatest freak. I did not like being the centre of attention. Not one bit.

"Hey!" I heard someone shout. I recognised that voice. I looked over to my left and spotted Luke standing against a wall, his growlithe by his side. He jerked his head to the side, inviting me over. The other trainers saw his invitation, saw me starting to leave and got the message. They left me alone, thankfully. Quite honestly, I felt like a real piece of shit for not appreciating their help, but I had been panicking too much to really think straight.

So I walked hesitantly over to Luke, hands jammed deep into my pockets.

"Might want to get your pokemon out," he suggested when I finally reached him.

"Yeah," I replied weakly, digging into my pocket for 33B's ball. I still didn't have a name for her. I pressed the button on the front of the ball and it doubled in size, then I hurled it at the ground and caught it on its bounce back up. There was a flash of light and suddenly my starter was there, sitting on the mat, tail twitching slightly, gazing around regally.

"Well it's calm, that's sure as hell something," Luke commented, back to that sort of awkward way he had been yesterday, when I first met him. Maybe it was in response to my own awkwardness - I was acutely aware that I couldn't possibly be an easy person to speak to.

"What was she like at first?" I asked quietly, nodding to his growlithe - which, for her part, was also behaving amicably. I had half expected her to chase my own pokemon, but the dog had seemingly resisted. Or maybe it was just that she didn't feel up to the task of tangling with a cat that was about the same size as her.

"Well the two of us got along straight away," he told me - I noticed that he was avoiding eye contact. "But God help any living thing that came within ten feet of me," he continued, smiling now at his dog, seemingly remembering fond memories. "There's a reason they're known for being loyal."

"Yeah," I replied. What a pathetic response. No fucking wonder people couldn't talk to me.

"I guess it's a long shot to hope that it knows any commands?" Luke asked, nodding to my pokemon.

"Pretty much," I confirmed. Not a great response, but I was settling into Luke's company. I wasn't sweating or blushing involuntarily anymore, my responses were getting just a little more natural and I wasn't really mumbling anymore either. I was starting to get used to Luke, just a tiny little bit.

"Ah well," he shrugged. "You should teach her how to scratch and bite, those two and a some decent tactics should get you your first badge," he suggested. I nodded thoughtfully, non verbally telling him that I had taken his advice on board. "What's her name?" He asked, seemingly settling into my less than interesting company a little.

"She doesn't have one," I admitted. "I can't really think of anything." Bland, bland, bland. I didn't blame other people for not wanting to talk to me.

"So, what do you call her?" He asked, puzzled. "Just cat?" He added with a laugh.

"I don't call her anything yet, I only got her yesterday," I explained with a chuckle. I was starting to actually enjoy Luke's company.

"You could always just call her 'Cat'" he suggested, not at all serious.

"I could," I acknowledged, not entirely kidding.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kit!" I scolded her, voice cold, hard.<p>

And hours later, I was still in the main hall, training. Training consisted mostly of repeating words to Kit and sort of hoping that she figured out what they meant.

And my cat was currently a few feet from Luke's growlithe, back arched, claws out, hissing. For her part, Stella wasn't exactly behaving well either. She was crouched, hackles raised, teeth bared, snarling and growling. I wasn't sure which one had instigated it, nor was I sure which one would come out on top if they were to fight.

My cat took a quick swipe at the fire dog but she ducked under it - that dog was all fast footwork - and returned to her ready position at the same time as my cat, drooling fire. They were back to square one. My cat was stronger with better reflexes and an extra set of weapons - her claws. The dog, though, was that little bit bigger, had fighting experience, basically unlimited stamina and the advantage of fire.

"Stella," Luke warned his dog, voice low, threatening. His dog gave one last growl before turning slowly away from my cat and spitting a small mouthful of embers into the air. I had to commend Luke, he had his companion fully under control. Unfortunately, I could not say the same about myself and mine.

My cat just settled down on her haunches in response, staring at the retreating form of the dog in indignation. This thing. As far as starters go, I could probably have picked better - the zigzagoon that I had been seriously considering would probably have been a better choice in hindsight - but something about her just jumped out at me. Fair enough, she was naturally predisposed to being a fighter. Physically one of the more impressive individuals of her species, as well as one of the sharper minded individuals. Aggressive, although not overly so. She exhibited a healthy fear of her opponents too, yet never gave in to that fear - she used it to drive her instead. She was good for that, but she was stubborn - a trait her species is well known for - and disobedient. My attempts to train her so far were totally and utterly fruitless.

"Forget this," I muttered to myself, not loud enough for anyone to hear, as I brought out her ball. I pointed it roughly in her direction then pressed the button in the middle. One red laser beam later she was trapped in the chrome device again. Little bitch.

"You look about done," Luke observed, sauntering over, Stella right by his side.

"Basically am," I replied dryly, my frustration at my pokemon loosening my tongue somewhat.

Luke's totodile, Niles, caught up to him then. It's not that he was a slow creature - quite the opposite, they're known to be very fast over short distances - it was simply that he lacked the stamina to keep up with his trainer all the time. He was an impressive creature, though. Six feet long from the the tip of the snout to the tip of the tail - although the tail alone made up about half of his length. He was a bulky creature too. The muscles were difficult to identify under the thick, leathery, pale blue scales, but they were definitely there. And the abundance of fat that gathered around his belly only added to his weight - although it hardly limited him at all while he was in action. His back was armoured with large, bright red osteoderms - armoured plates used both for physical protection and heat exchange in crocodilians - that contrasted with the blue scales on most of his body and the yellow scales of his belly. But the most notable feature, obviously, was the sturdy, box like head with a pair of red marbles for eyes and the massive pair of steel trap jaws attached to it - complete with the little death cones that deserved to be called more than merely 'teeth'. They were widely considered to be one of the most dangerous pairs of jaws in the pokemon world. He was a beautiful animal when you really took the time to admire just how much of a killing machine he really was.

I had been mistaken when I assumed that Luke was a fire type trainer - he actually had a dual affinity for fire and water pokemon, oddly enough. Sweet deal, especially compared to my affinity for the exceptionally ordinary. His family, however, lacked the funds to send him to Kanto to train in Cinnabar or Cerulean with the fire and water gym leaders, respectively, so he had to make do with just starting in his home town. He didn't get a privileged start like I did, training with one of the world's experts on my type.

"D'you by any chance want to come to the gym with us?" Luke asked me hesitantly, returning Niles to his ball - Stella was allowed to remain out. By 'we' I assumed he meant himself and pink and purple - who had been over training with some more experienced trainers than ourselves before he left - and by 'gym' I assumed he meant the one designed for people, you know, the one with treadmills and weight machines and such.

"Uh," I choked, taken aback. I felt that this was a kind of big deal - you know, he was inviting me somewhere, like I was a friend - and I felt I had to give him a quick answer and so nearly fired out a hasty affirmative out of pressure, but I managed to keep enough control of my tongue to croak a weak refusal when I remembered that I possessed no suitable clothes for exercise and had no idea how to actually operate any of the equipment on account of having never stepped inside a fitness suite in my life. "Nah," I told him feebly, my crippling shyness at its worst. "I'm good."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged as he started to walk away, presumably to said gym.

"Thanks," I called after him pathetically. What I had meant was 'Thanks for the offer' and such, but to him it probably just sounded like a random, pointless thank you. Then again, I had been quiet enough that I wasn't sure if he heard me or not. I silently hoped that he hadn't, he'd probably think I was an awkward weirdo. Which would have been pretty accurate if I'm being honest.

"See you back at the dorm later," he called back, waving a hand at me as he left.

And now I felt suddenly exposed. Most of the gym trainers were still in the hall, training, and now I was alone. Luke wasn't here and pink and purple had left already too - fair enough, I had said about two words to pink and purple, but at least he was a familiar face. I wanted to leave too, but I didn't want to risk running into Luke on his way to the gym after declining his offer, so I lingered awkwardly for a few minutes then hastily made my exit.

Then I got lost trying to find my dorm. I knew the dormitories were on the top floor, but I took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in the B wing. So I had to retrace my steps and eventually I made it back home - C wing. I was at the far end though, so I had to trek all the way to sixteen. But eventually I got there and kicked off my shoes and collapsed face-first on my bed.

I retrieved Kit's ball and just let it fall to the floor. She burst out of the ball in a flash of light when it made contact with the ground and jumped up onto the bed after taking a moment to study her environment. She walked in small circles around my feet, and after padding for ten minutes, eventually settled down in a spot that she deemed comfortable.

The cat had basically ignored me all day. Except for when I had food on me. Typical cat, although I judged that she was craftier and significantly more cunning that the norm.

I exhaled deeply, removed my glasses, folded them and placed them next to my head on the pillow. Just something I did when I was stressed - removing my glasses made me feel sort of naked. Like I was free. It was like when I took my glasses off, some of whatever burden I was wrestling with went with them.

I wondered if I had maybe made a terrible mistake choosing this as a career choice. I had a shitty affinity and extremely limited team options, I couldn't talk to people or do most things by myself and as much as I was kind of enjoying the novelty of the gym and everything just now, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd feel the same way in a month or a year or two or five.

But then again, I'd never have the guts to change career anyway. I'd never have the guts to just suddenly make such a big decision. Decision making was one of the numerous skills that I lacked.

Then my ancient phone started playing that annoying little jingle to let me know that someone was phoning me and I dug it out of the suitcase that was sitting next to my bed. I knew who it was already. I mean, really, who was going to phone me apart from my parents?

So I placed the phone on the pillow, next to my glasses which were next to my head and I stared at the plain, white ceiling while I waited for it to ring out. After a minute it stopped. After a few minutes more I picked it back up played the voicemail that I knew my parents would have left.

"J? J, it's your old mum! Did you get there alright and that? And how is it so far?" The sound of my mother's voice calmed me. My mum was a total joker. Taking things seriously wasn't something she often considered doing. She was loud and fun and could walk into a room full of total strangers and come out with a dozen new friends. She never failed to make me laugh, never failed to make things that little bit better.

"How is Whitney?" My dad shouted down the phone. "She any good? She know what she's talking about?" Ah, my dad. Most people considered him shy, like me, but he wasn't really, he was just quiet. He just never had much to say to most people, but if he did he was fine with making it known. He had been an amateur trainer in his youth - he had trained for a couple of years and managed to get his hands on the glacier, mineral and storm badges - and it was largely due to him that I had followed this path. Always the one to offer his wisdom and advice whether it was wanted or needed or not.

"We're missing you already!" My mum again this time.

"Get Pryce's badge before the old git kicks the bucket!" I let out a choked laugh at my dad and it was only then that I realised I was crying.

"And don't you be missing us," my mum warned me. "You should be too busy having fun!" And I could hear her voice cracking just a bit. Just a tiny little bit.

"And kicking that pink-headed brat's arse!" My dad chipped in, voice a little deeper than usual. Trying to maintain his happy act while he was on the phone.

Then there was a few seconds of silence as they composed themselves.

"We'll let you go now," my dad said, his voice just as strong as it always was.

"And Luce misses you too!" came my mum's voice, unbroken this time, sounding happy even though I knew she wasn't. Lucy - known to her family members as Luce - was my little sister. My junior by only about a year and a half, the only thing we had in common was our short stature. I had taken my dad's thick, brown hair and easily tanned skin, as well as his stocky build while my sister was build like a skelf and had inherited our mother's poker straight, jet black hair and freckled skin. Personality wise, we were polar opposites still.

"Yeah, you take care," my dad said, a finality in his voice that told me that was the last thing he was going to say.

"Love you!" Came my mum's parting words before the beep told me that the voicemail was over.

I smiled and cried and sniffed afterwards and wiped at my eyes with the heels of my palms until they were red and dry. I loved my family and I missed them and I knew they felt the same way except times a hundred. Well, maybe not Luce, she'd probably just be glad to get the computer to herself. I laughed at that thought. And she'd more or less get the run of the TV as well, so long as dad wasn't watching a battle. He may not have been a trainer anymore, but he still enjoyed a good battle.

All I could think of then was home. Fuschia. I had never much liked the city itself, but I had always loved my home. There had always been voices and easy banter and the blare of the TV. My sister and I weren't the kind of kids that shut themselves in their rooms to surf the net every waking hour. No, we actually liked our family. And the computer was in the living room anyway, if we wanted to use it we had to do it in the company of our family. It was nice though. It had made the four of us closer, spending all that time together.

Just thinking about them made me homesick.

So once I had composed myself - admittedly, it took a while - I typed a text message in response to their heartbreaking voicemail.

_ye i got here ok! im making friends with my roommates already and i rly like whitney, shes loads of help! i got a meowth too and shes great, i love her already! looking forward to evrything tbh, i'm having such a good time. miss u tho, ill phone u at some point!_

I hit the send button and threw my phone back into my suitcase. Most of what I had said had been total bullshit, but it was necessary bullshit. I wasn't going to tell them that I was basically having an existential crisis over my future career or lack thereof, or that I hated my affinity and that my starter was basically a nasty little bitch or that my broken social skills made regular conversation a living hell. They didn't need to know that. What they needed to know was that their son was having a fantastic time and had a decent life ahead of him and that everything was going just as it should. So that's what I gave them.

The part about Whitney, in all fairness, wasn't a total lie. I had spoken to Whitney a couple more times already and both times had been just as much of an awkward disaster as my first time speaking to her had been. That being said, she knew her shit. She had pointed out that I should reward Kit with treats instead of just praise when she did something right - she wasn't a dog, pleasing me wasn't reward enough. She had then suggested that when rewarding Kit for obeying me, I should make use of intermittent reinforcement - that is, rewarding her only sometimes rather than all the time, making the behaviour harder to extinguish.

Those pointers hadn't had any effect whatsoever on my training so far, but they would certainly pay off in the future, although I didn't know that at the time.

I had composed myself. My eyes were still red and puffy and I could still feel that ache in my throat that accompanies sadness, but I'd cried enough, I was happier now.

Until claws dug into my calf and I let out a choked, surprised yelp and involuntarily kicked my leg out and knocked my cat from the bed. Little bitch had been trying to sharpen her claws on my leg.

My cat tumbled off the bed and landed on her feet, back arched, fur bristling, hissing at me.

"No!" I scolded her, standing up in front of her, carelessly flinging my glasses back onto my face and glaring down at her. I had to let her know that this was not okay, that human legs, mine particularly, were not scratching posts. I could feel two or three little punctures on the skin of my calf - they may have been oozing a tiny little bit of blood, but they were basically harmless, although that didn't mean they weren't itchy, irritating and sore.

Then Kit gave one final, loud hiss, but right about when she should have turned her back on me and skulked away, she instead lashed out with a swift, powerful strike to my left thigh. And I knew that I was in shit before I even felt anything.

She obviously wasn't as big as I was, but she was about knee height. Most pokemon that size can inflict damage on people and she was no different. She may have been my starter, she might have just been a stubborn cat, but she was still no different. She was fast as hell, she had lean, muscular limbs and claws that looked like shrunken scimitars.

And those scimitars cut through my leg just as easily as they had cut through my jeans beforehand. First, I felt my leg getting wet as the blood started pumping from the wound, then I felt the dull ache and thought that this should probably hurt a fuck lot more. And when I looked at my leg it was a bloody mess but I couldn't see the wound, all I could see were the bloody tatters of my jeans.

Only then did Kit turn her back on me and skulk away.

And I suddenly found that I was sitting on the floor.

I let out a low, quiet, trembling moan and pressed my trembling hands to the wound to try and staunch the blood flow. It was like trying to empty the ocean using a teaspoon.

And then my hands were red and soaked and getting sticky and I started feeling light headed. My first thought was that I lost so much blood that I was fainting, but then I thought that maybe I was just fainting because I was scared as hell. Then I thought that maybe I wasn't fainting at all and I was just getting light headed and that was all.

And there was no one here to help me.

I turned my head slowly from side to side, looking for anyone at all to call to, but that little bitch Kit was the only other living being in the room.

And it felt like minutes, but maybe it was only seconds later, I don't know, that the door opened and a sweat soaked figure in a tracksuit practically stumbled in, exhausted.

"L-Luke...?" I wailed, voice trembling.

"Fuck," he said flatly, and I just had the impression that his eyes had went wide, but I was far too frantic to focus on what his face was actually like. "Hey, Wes, got an emergency here," Luke bellowed into the hallway then strode into the room and knelt down beside me.

"I-I-I..." And I can't remember what I said after that. I don't think I was even aware of what I was saying at the time. Shyness was not a problem for me at this point. No, not at all. I couldn't stop myself from making sounds and speaking actually. I just didn't really know what I was saying.

"We've all been here, it's cool," he reassured me as my vision started darkening, just a little bit more.

"Holy fucking..." I heard a voice murmur. In fact, it probably wasn't a murmur, it's just that my ears didn't seem to be working right. And I think he said more after that, but it just sounded like rumbling to me. And my vision was darkening even more. And more than anything else, I just didn't care any more about anything that happened unless it concerned my semi dismembered leg.

My second last thought was that I was a real trainer now - I'd have scars, I'd be truly one of them after only a day.

And my very last thought before everything faded to black and my consciousness disintegrated was that I was going to be the very fucking best, no matter what it took.


	3. Chapter Three

The Long And Lonely Story Of Trainer J

Chapter Three

A Sight For The Eyeless

* * *

><p>Author's note:<p>

First of all, it's been four months since the last chapter. Four months. My track record it atrocious, I know. But updates will continue to come unless I specify otherwise.

Second of all, I have not proofread this because it's about ten thousand words and I'm a lazy bastard. So expect a couple of errors.

Third of all, enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>First entry in like a week, oops. Been having a bit too much fun to really write very much though. Nothing big's happened, not like Kit's attacked me again or anything, just doing a lot of nothing really. Training with Luke mostly, sometimes Wes too. Kit's improving. Not quickly, but little by little. She knows her name and she knows the sit and scratch commands. She's still stubborn, though, and I don't think she'd listen to me in battle. Nowhere near close to getting my badge yet, but that doesn't surprise me, I already knew that badges aren't earned in a matter of days or weeks.<em>

"Mornin'" Luke greeted me, climbing from the bunk above me. I snapped the notebook shut and stashed it underneath my pillow before he turned around and saw it. I made a mental note to hide it somewhere better later.

"What are you doing up?" I asked him. "It's like eight in the morning," I pointed out.

"Trouble sleeping," he replied, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What about you?"

"I'm an early riser," I told him. "I've been up for about half an hour. It's the same most days," I added.

"Hm," he hummed, nodding thoughtfully. "I'm going to jump in for a quick shower, want to head out after that?" He asked, turning towards me.

"Sure, I'll be ready in five," I replied, getting out of bed and stretching. I didn't have to bother with a shower, I'd had one the night before.

"Right, I'll be like ten minutes," Luke said, then disappeared into the tiny bathroom.

I reached under my pillow and retrieved the notebook. I glanced around, feeling nervous and exposed. Wes was still asleep on the top bunk of the bed opposite and I knew that he was a heavy sleeper, but I was nervous anyway. I knelt down, pulled my suitcase out from under the bed, grabbed clean clothes and then slid the notebook between two t-shirts that sat inside it. Safe enough.

Getting dressed took me all of ten seconds. I threw yesterday's dirty clothes into the washing basket that the three of us shared, then retrieved a book and my phone from my suitcase before closing it and sliding it under the bed again.

Fully dressed, I stretched out on my bed and checked my phone. A text from my mum's mobile, as per. I woke up to one almost every morning. My dad's texts, on the other hand, tended to come later in the day. I hastily typed a reply, basically telling her everything was still going great - which wasn't a lie any more, I was actually loving it at the gym.

Maybe I should have spent a little more time on the text. Put in a little more effort. But that realisation hadn't hit me. Not yet.

I locked my phone, shoved it underneath my pillow and opened my book while I waited for Luke. Of the three books that I had brought with me from home, this was my last one. It was about an intelligent, wealthy and successful lawyer, Patrick Wallace, who was framed by the government for a crime he didn't commit because they needed a scapegoat. Wallace, though, wouldn't go quietly. He ran. He even got away. He fled half way across the world, where he assumed a fake identity and started a new life in a foreign country. He even fell in love with a foreign woman. The intelligence organisations tried to find him but they never stood a chance against the genius, though, who was always a hundred steps ahead of them. I was near the end of the novel, and it was looking like Patrick Wallace was just about to fake his own death to put an end to the pursuit once and for all.

This really was a good book. Better than the gritty and seedy tale of DCI Dennis Logan, I thought. Patrick Wallace mixed an engaging plot with an admirable and able but at the same time flawed character. The dialogue was great too, and the people playing their parts in this story were realistic, with realistic feelings and realistic reactions.

There was even an enigmatic assassin duo who were particularly obsessive pursuers of Wallace - and if they caught him it was clear that they wouldn't hesitate. I really loved those two.

I was starting to properly get into it when the bathroom door opened and Luke walked out, hair still dripping wet but fully dressed and ready to go nonetheless. "You ready?" He asked. Looked like Patrick Wallace would have to wait until another day.

"Yeah, let's go," I replied, standing up and heading for the door.

We made our way to the ground floor, past the reception and out the main entrance, exchanging awkward smiles with the receptionist on duty on the way, who I kind-of-but-not-really knew. It was about half eight by now, and outside it was cold and foggy. It was Goldenrod City, so people were still rushing about everywhere in the bustling city, but when people breathed they sent clouds of mist into the air and pulled their coats tighter around themselves as they walked.

I hadn't worn a coat. Luke had elected to wear a black hoodie to combat the cold bite of the air but I wore only a red t-shirt and jeans, and although I was a little chilly, I wasn't cold as such. I've always been good with cold, it's never bothered me much. I've always been able to wander around dressed lightly, quite happy while everyone else shivers and hugs themselves. Quite handy, too, because I've never been fond of hoodies or jackets from a style point of view. I guess the catch, though, is that I absolutely cannot deal with heat. Sunstroke's a relative normality for me every summer if I'm not careful.

We shoved through the crowds on the wide streets, slipping and pushing past the people who had actual jobs to go to. I had never been out in Goldenrod this early and it was unusual to see it so...not dead, but comparatively tame.

"Hey, let's go in here," Luke said, nodding towards a little coffee shop. We had only been walking for a few minutes and we hadn't said much.

"Sure," I said, but he was already making his way in there anyway and probably didn't hear me.

It was nice inside. It looked like the whole place was made of rich, dark wood - mahogany, possibly? - and glass. One entire wall was made of windows, and I could see those we were pushing past just seconds earlier continuing on their way to wherever they were going. A girl a few years older than I was sat at the back, working the cash register behind the counter. Off to the side sat milk and sugar and spices and all sorts, and the rest of the room was dotted with wooden tables and chairs.

Luke ordered a black coffee - which looked, smelled and presumably tasted like liquid death - while I wasted near enough five quid on a more tame cup of hot chocolate - I even managed minimal awkwardness while talking to the girl behind the desk. Luke didn't bother heading off to the side for extra milk or sugar or anything, so I didn't bother either.

As we settled into the hard wooden seats and set our drinks down on the hard wooden table it occurred to me that this was the first time I had ever been in a coffee shop.

Luke wrapped his index and middle fingers around the handle of the cup and downed half of the steaming liquid in one go, wincing from either the heat or bitterness as he put the cup back down on the saucer.

"I don't get how you can drink that," I told him, shaking my head briefly before taking a sip of my hot chocolate. It was hot and creamy and sweet and delightful, nearly worth the wasted fiver. "I hate the stuff."

"So do I," he mumbled into his cup, draining some more of the awful stuff. There couldn't have been more than a drop or two of coffee left in his cup by now. He hadn't even left it to cool at all, his mouth must be on fire.

"Why you drinking it then?" I asked him, screwing my face up in confusion. As I said it, he drained the last little bit in the cup.

"Need to stay awake," he replied, yawning. "Not all of us sleep like babies, you know," he added with a tilt of his head.

"Oh yeah, you didn't sleep too well last night," I said, nodding in understanding, letting my memory take me back to the dormitory this morning.

"Just like every other fucking night," he replied with a sarcastic smile. Some people might interpret that as unpleasant, but over the past few weeks I had found that Luke swore a lot more than was really necessary, it was just the way he spoke and didn't really mean anything.

"You ever thought about sleeping tablets or anything?" I asked, taking another, longer drink from my hot chocolate before the heat forced me to abandon my mission for the time being. I could get used to this, I thought.

"Yeah but the stupid wankers won't give me a prescription because I don't absolutely fucking need them," he practically spat. Another thing that I had figured out over the past few weeks, his swearing got more intense when his mood got fouler. He exhaled with a groan and dragged his hands down his face, his long, bony fingers pulling at his skin and distorting his face for a few seconds. I don't use this expression lightly, but Luke's hands were skeletal, in a way that I've never with anyone else. "Think a second coffee would be unhealthy?"

"Probably," I replied. "But more than that, it's not exactly economic," I pointed out. I mean, was it really wise for us to waste this much money on hot drinks when we had ourselves and our animals to look after and nothing but the money we had left home with?

"Fair enough," he sighed, as if resigned to being half asleep for the rest of the day for the sake of a few quid. He slid his phone from his pocket and looked at it. "It's only half nine," he told me. "Where to?"

"I don't know, anywhere really," I replied. "We're just sort of trying to waste time until half three," I went on. "Unless there's anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"Nah, not really." I had thought as much.

"Well there's plenty to do in town," I said, downing the rest of my drink then standing up and stretching. "You ready?"

"Yeah, why not?" He sighed, pushing the chair back with a screech of wood on wood and standing up. "Might as well take me away before I fuck all my money on coffee."

"So where to?" I asked, making my way towards the door with Luke trailing me.

"I don't know, I asked you like two minutes ago" he reminded me.

"Oh yeah," I said, more ot myself than to him.

"Could go to some clubs, slay some pussy, you know?" He said, managing to maintain a straight face. I laughed and shook my head before replying.

"It's four more years until I can even get into clubs," I said, pushing the door open and braving the bite of the cold once again. "You know, sorry to rain on your parade."

"Hey fuck you man," he said as he dug into his pocket for his phone. "Never heard of fake ID's? God, you have no sense of adventure," he said in mock seriousness, still typing away at his phone.

"Shut up you idiot," I replied, although good naturedly. Insulting each other had become a regular part of our conversations.

Luke didn't seem to hear me and I started to feel awkward. As much as I got on with Luke and considered him a friend, and as much we just sort of clicked after my initial shyness, my awkwardness would still shine through sometimes.

"Did you say something?" He asked, looking up, eyes wide, like he had been startled. Engrossed in his phone apparently.

"Never mind," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. Not like I had said anything important. "Who you texting? Parents?" Those were basically the only people I ever texted - my few friends back home had all but faded from my mind.

"Just a friend," he replied, his tone dismissing them as nothing important.

"Hey a pet shop," I said, grinning broadly, pointing across the road.

"Lol," he said - to this day I have trouble believing that he actually said 'lol' out loud. "Not thinking of buying a pet are you?" There was a laugh just waiting to be released if I said yes.

"I'm not stupid," I deadpanned. "But pet shops are still nice, even if the pokemon in there can't battle," I explained. You see, there's a difference between pets and battlers. There's a difference between your average housecat and Kit. The former is selectively bred to be weaker and less dangerous but also more docile and friendly. The latter? Well, they're far superior. They're bred to be bigger, faster, stronger and smarter, more obedient, fiercer. More dangerous.

"Nice?" He scoffed. "I'd rather go to a breedery if I'm honest," he opined.

"There any in Goldenrod?" Stupid question. But before I could take it back, I got laughed at.

"Of course there're breederies in Goldenrod," Luke replied after he had stopped laughing. "There are at least half a dozen."

"Oh," was all I could manage. I was still having trouble getting over my blonde moment.

"You thinking of getting another pokemon?" Luke asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Um. Not really," I told him, shrugging. "I hardly have Kit under control," I added, as if trying to explain myself.

"Well you'll need a second one soon then," he told me, a condescending tone creeping into his voice.

"Oh, wait -" I started, but Luke interrupted me. I was just about to say that I had remembered that Whitney's gym challenge required two pokemon - well, not strictly true, some people could get by with only one pokemon but unless you were either a prodigy or a veteran, you would probably need two.

"The thing is, Whitney uses two pokemon in her gym challenge," he said, talking over the start of my sentence. "And you'll probably challenge her in the next couple of months - probably around the same time as me - so the best thing to do? Get another pokemon, should basically make the whole thing a lot easier," he continued. Of course, everything he said was right, but I already knew that. It had just slipped my mind. And he would have known that if he hadn't jumped at the chance to interrupt and talk over me to show just how clever he was.

Luke was my friend. In fact Luke was my best friend. And Luke would become one of the most important people in my life. Luke, though, was in no way perfect. He did have his flaws and I did just want to slap him sometimes.

"Yeah, I know that," I said meekly.

"Oh, right," he said, smiling to himself, clearly not believing me. He saw this as just another occasion where he turned out to be smarter than someone else. And that made him so, so smug.

Oh fuck off Luke.

Had I been a few years older, I would have blatantly told him to shut his fucking hole. But I wasn't a few years older, I was fourteen. I was shy, quiet, awkward and submissive, even with Luke to some extent.

So despite really not wanting a new pokemon for so many reasons, I let Luke pressure me into heading to a breedery to get one. It would cost money, I'd need to pay for food for it, it would be more time and effort to train it, it might not get along with the still unruly Kit and so many other reasons - I could go on for hours. Waiting until Kit was under control and my money situation was a bit better would have been smoother and easier - and I knew that - but nevertheless I let Luke push me into buying a new one that day instead.

He even chose the breedery we went to. It was a good one, but - as much as I didn't know it at the time - there were better in Goldenrod. Of course, Luke claimed that this was undeniably the best anyway because he thought he was right about absolutely everything all the time.

The place was called Guillermo's. Located on the outskirts of Goldenrod, it must have taken us forty five minutes to walk there and by the time we arrived I was sweating, despite the cold. A fairly small, red brick cuboid of a building served as the entrance. Inside was a man at a counter, a rack full of pamphlets, a door opposite us and little else.

"Have you got something in mind or are you just looking around?" The man at the counter asked us. There was a hint of an accent in his voice, so subtle that I almost missed it.

"Nah, just looking," Luke replied with a smile.

"Ah, okay, okay," the man said, nodding to himself. His faintly wrinkled skin was olive and his hair jet black. He had the look of a foreigner, not just the accent of one. "The enclosures are outside, I hope you find what you are looking for," he said, gesturing to a door beside him, opposite the door we just came in.

Luke thanked him, headed to the door and I followed. We exited through the back and emerged outside between two large, glass tanks. All of the enclosures were glass tanks rather than cages. Probably to protect the trainers browsing, like ourselves. After all, a charizard could breathe fire between the bars of a cage or an arbok could spit venom through it. But glass? No chance.

"Now come on, how cool is this?" Luke said, spreading his arms wide, gesturing to the place in general. I agreed - the place was pretty cool - and his ego grew just a bit larger.

The place was like a zoo, except you could buy what you wanted. All manner of creatures resided in the enclosures, from newborn battlers and old breeding stock, every type, every kind of creature. Birds and reptiles and apes and bugs and things so odd that scientists hadn't really decided what they were. Some were relaxing, just chilling in their tanks munching on fruit and meat and whatever else while others were openly hostile, spitting and snapping and snarling through the glass at us.

"Hey look at this," Luke gasped in awe, looking through the glass of one of the biggest tanks in the place. I followed him up to the glass, peering through when I got there. Inside were trees and bushes, with various berries growing off the ends of the branches. The soil on the ground was littered with leaves. But right in the centre? A gigantic creature. At least eight feet tall, a plantigrade mammal - meaning it stood on the soles of its feet rather than the toes - with fur such a dark blue that it appeared black. It had a strong, bulky head with small, pointed ears and a small, blunt snout. Its claws were short - used for foraging, not for attack. It was resting on all fours when I came over, but as soon as it noticed me it stood up on its hind legs and stretched. Its arms were thicker than my head.

"Three grand," I pointed out, nodding to a placard with the price printed on it. Then again, if I had the money I would pay that for a snorlax in a heartbeat.

"Ah, but look at that," Luke said, nodding to one of the bushes. At first I didn't see what his point was, but then I noticed it. A smaller, plumper, furrier version was sitting in the bush, peering out warily. Barely two feet tall. A munchlax.

"Five hundred quid," I pointed out, locating the price for the larger creature's child. "Still way, way out of my price range," I noted.

"Yeah but that's still really good for something like that," he replied. "I mean come on, snorlax are borderline invincible."

"Fair," I replied. My enthusiasm didn't match this. His pressuring me into doing this had sort of soured the experience and I couldn't really change my mind now that I was in the place. Well, that's the way I thought back then. Again, if I had been just a few years older...

I say that a lot, I know.

"You have got to get one of these at some point in your life," he said quietly, totally in awe. In all fairness, this time he wasn't being condescending. "I mean they basically just dominate anything ever, like-like look at Champion Red's snorlax, that basically wrestled Champion Lance's dragonite and won!" And despite Luke's good mood and enthusiasm, I was still kind of silently pissed.

Then something caught my eye. I started walking away from Luke almost on autopilot.

Just a few metres over sat a much smaller enclosure. Not tiny, but nowhere as big as the snorlax's one. And this was a tall tank rather than a broad one - however, from floor to ceiling it was crammed with branches and leaves and vines. The creature inside cared much more about climbing space than floor space - an arboreal pokemon. A primarily green lizard, maybe two feet long with a tightly coiled tail. Two large, green and yellow crests ran from just above its large, separately moving, stereoscopic eyes and all the way down to the base of its tail. It wasn't really going anywhere, it was just swaying lightly, clinging to a branch with its distinctive feet - its toes were arranged with two at one side and three at the other, giving a pincer-like arrangement.

"Hey, that's kind of weird," Luke noted with a little chuckle, stepping up beside me. He didn't view this lizard as a serious contender, although he did find it mildly amusing. But I had already decided that this was going to be my second team member. My brain was working at super speed, thinking tactics and strategies and all the rest of it while Luke was just giving an amused little laugh at the odd creature.

"Fifty quid," I pointed out, grinning. I was so, so, so excited. That was way within my price range. In fact, you would struggle to find a cheaper pokemon in such good health - clearly fully grown, but not in declining health or anything, nowhere near it in fact. This individual was in its prime and it was an absolute bargain. Mostly because no one considered the species a viable candidate for competitive battling. But me? I had an idea. In fact I'd just had several.

"Are you serious?" Luke asked, incredulous, starting to get that I was indeed very serious.

"As a heart attack," I replied confidently. Back in those days I didn't do many things confidently, but I was sure of myself in that moment. "Hey!" I called to one of the staff - he was just wandering around, offering help to the customers. He dutifully came running at my call.

"Look come on, you can do better than this," Luke urged me, waving flippantly at the chameleon. But this time I wouldn't be swayed. Luke would not push me into deciding against this.

And hey, normal type reptiles are unusual. It would certainly add a little bit of variety to an all normal type team.

"This one?" The staff member asked, eyes lighting up when I nodded in agreement. Probably because no one else would buy it. His boss would absolutely love him for managing to sell this. "Absolutely, back in a sec," he said, running off back to the main building.

And although Luke urged me and borderline begged me to reconsider, I remained confident. The worker returned with a plain red and white pokeball, opened the enclosure and returned my new pokemon to the ball while Luke continued imploring me to reconsider last minute. I ignored him, though. The worker led us back to the main building, I handed the money over to the foreign man behind the counter, I was given the ball and then we left.

And that was it. That was the day I added my second pokemon to my competitive team.

* * *

><p>"Fucking rollout!" Luke screamed at the top of his lungs, jumping and pumping his fists in the air. Not that I was acting much different. Live battles brought out the crazy side in everyone.<p>

It had been just a few days since our trip to the breedery and we had a day off from the monotony of training to watch Whitney's live battle at the gym. Whitney travelled to other gyms to battle and sometimes had visitors over at her gym for the same reason - you know, part of the job description. Tonight she was going head to head with the Koga family heir and gym leader of Fuchsia city, Janine - complete with lesbian style, dyed purple hair, black and purple ninja garb and stupid little cape trailing behind her.

I was honestly rooting for Whitney. Even though Fuchsia was my home, I couldn't bring myself to cheer for Janine. She wasn't even in her twenties yet, she had inherited the gym rather than earning it and she was a sub par battler. Whitney, on the other hand, I had tremendous respect for. As a person, she was smart and strong, she was my first mentor and she was an absolutely beastly battler to boot. The first time I met her, Whitney told me that she was a poor trainer. Those beliefs were clearly rooted in lack of self worth rather than fact, because to this day I still consider Whitney Morgan to be one of the most supremely talented trainers I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

The crowd was going absolutely wild, calling for Whitney to finish Janine when the battle had hardly even started. Then again, only a few minutes in and Janine was already three pokemon down while Whitney had only used two - and both were still conscious.

"She switched Taegan in a whole round ago and she still hasn't used rollout, what is she playing at?" Luke raged on, screaming down at the arena. "That thing's rollout could fucking flatten Janine's whole team!"

Luke was right. That miltank could have steamrolled Janine's whole team with rollout alone. It would probably be different if Whitney was facing a competent opponent, but Janine's team were just too slow, too weak - not good enough in basically every respect. Nevertheless, Whitney hadn't ordered a rollout even once. And that confused Luke and I.

The reason, though, became apparent when I thought about the battle years later. The crowd didn't pay to come and see a cow flattening six pokemon, the crowd came to see an explosive battle between two professionals. Whitney was just trying to create an engaging display for the audience. She wanted critics to give her good reviews, she wanted to build her reputation further, she wanted people to come back and watch more of her battles. It was about politics, it was about money, it was about thinking. It was cheap, but Whitney needed it. She needed the fame and she needed the money. She needed it to keep her job and to keep the gym open. And that was more important to her than anything.

In fact, it was so important that she was wearing a pink wig, a trendy jacket, denim shorts and knee high, striped socks for the sake of attention. Oh, and she was acting like a ditzy twelve year old. Hey, people thought it was cute. That was the Whitney that was presented to the media. I knew the real Whitney. Anybody who had ever trained at the gym knew the real, cynical, tough as shit Whitney, but the public only ever saw the pink headed idiot version. Because apparently that generated more money and publicity than the talented, genuine Whitney. It makes me sick when I think about it.

"Just fucking roll over the ninja cunt!" Luke bellowed.

Back in the battle, Whitney's miltank was struggling against Janine's crobat. That was fair enough though, Janine's crobat had been trained by her father, Koga, and was really the only gym leader worthy pokemon on the ninja's team. Well, I say ninja, but I should say alleged ninja - I had a sneaking suspicion that it was just a publicity gimmick, same as Whitney's ditzy act.

Whitney returned her miltank. Taegan was almost fresh - the pokemon she had torn through had hardly weakened her at all - but the crobat was naturally predisposed to win this fight. It didn't have the raw power to go head to head with the cow, but it could outmanoeuvre her and hide in the air. It had poison and it had speed, it could just wait the miltank out. And Whitney saw that, so she returned her pokemon rather than having it take a pointless beating. She had only used two pokemon so far, she had plenty of option left, after all.

Then she sent out her tauros, which she had already used - which she had started the battle with and which had tackled Janine's weezing and venomoth before being switched out in favour of Taegan, who then clashed with her foe's drapion. Her tauros was in worse shape than her miltank and wasn't even as strong in the first place. What the hell was she thinking?

Actually, it turned out to be a clever gambit. A very simple, but very clever one - the best kind in my opinion. The crobat moved in and sunk its fangs into the bull's hide and started injecting its venom. Before it could finish and pull its fangs free, though, Whitney returned the tauros, startling the bat. And she simultaneously sent Taegan back out, who materialised directly in front of the startled, low hovering crobat and proceeded to then steamroll the poor thing with the battle's first rollout attack while it was within range.

The crowd went absolutely wild.

Of course, any trainer worth their salt would have been quick witted enough to get the crobat back in the air before it got crushed, but I guess Janine just wasn't worth her salt.

Afterwards, though, Janine was too gobsmacked to even pick her next pokemon for a good few seconds. And it should have been an easy decision anyway seeing as she only had two left.

I was still chanting and screaming and clapping, but a little self consciously. Being loud just wasn't in my nature. Luke was screaming himself hoarse, but I was a little more reserved. An involuntary thing.

Toxicroak? Or Ariados? What would she pick?

In my opinion, it was a no brainer. Toxicroak are good battlers - they can throw punches with the best of them and they're among the most deadly of the poison types - but a big fucking herbivore would crush it. Ariados are jumpers, though. Her Ariados would at least stand a little bit of a chance. Of course, to inject poison the spider would have to land on the Miltank's back, after which Taegan would probably crush it with a rollout. On a good day, the Ariados might be quick enough to pull it off, so that was the obvious choice.

Not that it really mattered, all six of Whitney's pokemon were still conscious so Janine was more or less screwed.

Then the ninja leaned forward, switched on the microphone attached to her podium and said very slowly, very deliberately, "I forfeit this match."

She. Gave. Up.

Forfeit wasn't something that was unheard of, but it was still pretty uncommon. It elicited gasps from most of the crowd. And those few who didn't gasp in shock were screaming abuse at her instead. I was a gasper. Luke was a screamer.

I could already see the headlines. They would be absolutely ripping Janine to shreds. Couldn't say I cared - she was a sub par gym leader in my opinion. Whitney, on the other hand, would only be praised for her battling skills and all sorts.

And the very next day, they did just that.

"Inadequate," Luke laughed, reading through an article about the battle the next day. "And that's one of the more polite ones."

"Hopeless," Wes pointed out with a snicker.

"Hey, get this," I said, raising my hands for quiet. "Bumbling." And the three of us erupted into laughter. Them media really was tearing Janine apart. Serves her right for forfeiting. "I think that wins it."

"Defos," Luke agreed, nodding his head.

Then the door opened and all three of us turned our heads. No one came into our room. Ever. Apart from us three obviously - and the three of us were here presently.

Since we were expecting no company we were an absolute mess. Wes was topless, Luke was in his underwear and I was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, admiring the scars on my leg that Kit had kindly donated to me - I thought the scars made me look like a badass to be perfectly honest, although I'd never admit that to anybody.

"This is Daniel," Whitney told us, ushering a fourth teenager into the room. When I looked at her face I couldn't help but picture the pink pigtails. Now that I knew her, that image was so ludicrous it was funny. "He's a two badge trainer and your new room mate," she explained, then she promptly left, leaving poor Daniel in the deep end.

"Alright?" Wes asked the new guy, arching one eyebrow. The newcomer did look somewhat flustered.

"Yeah," he said, nodding to himself and walking over to claim the empty bed - the bunk below Wes.

He was tall. Not as tall as Luke, who was pretty freaking tall, but still tall. A cluster of acne along one side of his jaw was his only defining feature really. He had medium length, medium brown hair that sat neatly atop his medium tone skin. A navy shirt with the top button undone, faded jeans and a pair of plimsolls. He was a remarkably unremarkable looking individual - the kind that you could see a hundred times and still not remember what their face looked like if you weren't looking at them at that moment.

"So, Daniel is it?" Luke asked, just trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," Daniel replied. "Well, no. My friends call me McDeil actually," McDeil corrected himself.

"Why do they call you that?" Wes asked, screwing his face up in puzzlement, thinking.

"Because it's his second name, I'd imagine," I replied. It was the first time I had spoken since McDeil had entered the room. I wasn't uncomfortable really, just a bit wary of new people - in this case, McDeil specifically.

"Yeah, dumbass," Luke said to Wes, shaking his head at his friend's blonde moment.

McDeil didn't respond and a short, uneasy silence followed. He didn't strike me as a particularly shy or awkward or anxious person, but he didn't know us so a bit of uncertainty was understandable.

"Well, that gets rid of the empty bed," I pointed out, just to break the silence - I felt a profound sense of awkwardness and self consciousness as I did so, but I tried my best to ignore it.

"Yeah," Wes agreed. Thankfully. "Been feeling a bit lonely since Sean left." I briefly wished that I had known Sean, just so I could feel in the loop and maybe participate in this part of the conversation.

"Lonely? Really?" Luke inquired, cocking his head. "I would say the atmosphere's become mercifully less self obsessed." Oh. I felt that burn.

"Yep, we get it, you didn't like Sean," Wes sighed. Not angry or anything, just a bit bored of it, like he'd heard it all before - which he probably had. Luke was, at times, insufferably opinionated.

The smug wanker didn't reply, he just sat there with his self-satisfied grin - probably smug about having rustled Wes' feathers. Idiot.

"So what about you guys?" McDeil asked us, looking around, settling into our company. Or trying to, at least - that's a feeling I know all too well. "Badges, team and all that?"

"One badge - Ecruteak - and I've been training three or four months," Luke said, being the first to speak after a brief silence. "And I've got a growlithe and a totodile," he added.

"Never been to Ecruteak," McDeil replied, nodding his head absently. "I went from Violet to Azalea to here. Any of you been there?"

"Nope," I said.

"I've been to Violet," Wes piped up, suddenly interested. "I was there before here."

"How did you find Falkner?" McDeil asked, just trying to keep up conversation.

"Not bad. I mean, he's good, but he isn't great."

"Certainly fucking better than Janine," Luke muttered, and we all chuckled.

"Did you see outside the Sprout Tower in Violet, though?" Wes asked McDeil. He seemed a bit too interested in Violet City, I observed.

"Oh yeah, how cool is that?" McDeil said, grinning.

"Guys, what?" Luke said, a puzzled expression sliding its way onto his face. I felt the way Luke's face looked.

"Violet's a hotspot for parkour," Wes explained.

"What now?" I asked.

"Parkour. Freerunning. You know?" At my puzzled expression, he continued. "You know, those guys that jump building to building and backflip and all sorts, you know?"

"Oh yeah," Luke said, realisation dawning on him.

"Kind of," I replied, even though I actually had zero clue what he was on about.

"Well outside Sprout Tower's pretty popular," McDeil told us. "And if you go there there's always guys doing backflips and all sorts of cool stuff."

"They look like ninjas," Wes opined.

"Anyone mind that time Whitney Morgan battered a Ninja?" McDeil called out and we all laughed.

McDeil had started to settle in. You know, just by talking about pokemon and extreme sports that we had no experience of and whatever else we could think of. Which was nothing of any importance really. And after a few hours of lazy conversation our new room mate became more and more relaxed. I judged him to be a nice guy. Just a nice, honest, pleasant, friendly guy. I couldn't imagine a snide word coming out of his mouth. Then again, I wasn't at all confident in my own sense of judgement so my opinion was fickle and subject to change. Like everything else.

So yeah. We took the piss out of Janine's terrible performance the day before, got acquainted with McDeil, ate packaged noodles for dinner and just relaxed for the rest of the day.

I liked it. I honestly, truly enjoyed it. I'd had friends back home - although not many - but I'd never had friends like this. I'd never had friends that I felt really connected to. Just sitting in that room, I felt the four of us were united. We were trainers.

* * *

><p>Golden delicious are clearly, obviously, indisputably the best kind of apples. My teeth broke the skin and tore a chunk out of the fruit, the chill stinging my teeth as I bit into the fruit's cold flesh - my teeth were sensitive and weak, a result of not taking proper care of them when I was a kid. A little bit of the juice trickled down my chin and I shot my tongue out to try and lick it off greedily.<p>

Apples are glorious. I have always believed that. It's my only constant opinion, the only one that doesn't change.

All the while I was trying to shield my apple from the kecleon's line of vision, scared that his tongue would snap out and snatch my apple. Of course, I knew that his species weren't particularly fond of apples - although they could and sometimes would eat them - but that didn't make me any less fearful for my apple's life.

Then again, at least with the kecleon I was only fearing for my apple's life and not my own. I thought of the long, narrow scars on my thigh and briefly pondered how and when I would obtain my next pokemon related scar - because there would doubtless be more to come.

The kecleon was called Len. And although he would prove time and again in the future to be a worthwhile investment, he was not an easy one to train. To this day, I have never owned a less malleable pokemon.

Now this was a few weeks after I bought him, so it wasn't the first time I had trained him, but this was the first time I made any real progress. In fact, scratch that. It was the first time I had made any progress, period.

"Hey Luke!" I almost squealed, about to burst with excitement. I would have called on McDeil and Wes too, but they were on the other side of the training hall and I wasn't bold enough to screech across the whole room for all to hear.

"Hey," he said, strolling up to me, Stella and Niles on either side of him. I was still a little envious of his team if I'm being honest. A fire breathing dog and an armoured aquatic tank with a pair of steel trap jaws wasn't a bad deal. Certainly beat a haughty cat and a brainless chameleon.

"Check this out," I said, practically shaking with excitement. "Vanish." And at my command, Len - who had been hanging upside down from a piece of scaffolding - promptly disappeared. That was the first command he learned. And honestly one of the two most valuable. I'll get to the other valuable command later on in the story.

"Oh. That's sick man," he said, nodding his head in approval. "Now you just need to figure out a way for it to be any use," he went on, laughing to himself.

"Well you can't exactly do much when you can't see him, can you?" I replied evenly, readying myself for an in-depth debate about the pros and cons of using Kecleon as a competitive battler.

"But the red stripe's still there, isn't it?" He asked, turning to the now invisible Len to check as he said so.

"Well, do you see a red stripe?" I asked smugly. I knew that he did not, in fact, see a red stripe. Because the red stripe wasn't there. That whole thing about a kecleon's belly stripe always remaining red was an utter lie. Just an urban myth.

"Oh," was all he could come up with.

"That thing about the belly stripe's a myth, you should know that," I teased, drowning in smugness.

"Hey shut up," he snapped defensively. It shut me up, but it didn't stop me from grinning smugly for the next ten minutes straight.

Len appeared again in the exact some spot a few minutes later, having gotten apparently bored of his invisibility. The only problem I had with the command that he had learned was that...well, I hadn't managed to teach him the command to appear again yet.

"Vanish," I repeated. And once again, he turned invisible. With distaste, I reached down to a plastic box of bugs at my feet, opened one corner of the lid, pinched a live hopper between my thumb and forefinger with distaste and held it up for Len. Not a second later he had returned to full visibility and shot his tongue out at the insect. He pulled it back into his mouth and crunched it while I visibly boked.

You know, I had to reward him for obeying me. Reinforce the behaviour and all. But he ate insects. Live insects. It was absolutely vile. He needed his greens as well, but he seemed more interested in the bugs. Unfortunately for me. Which meant I had to spend my rapidly dwindling money on boxes of those hopping little fuckers.

I knew I would seriously need to get the money situation sorted. And soon.

Nevertheless, it was a problem not for this particular day, so I continued repeating words to Len and whipping out bugs as reward. I gave Kit a little bit of attention but not as much as Len - Kit was a cat, she was a bit more clever and thus didn't require as much teaching as my brain-dead chameleon did.

Over the weeks, though, Kit had improved. She knew the commands 'bite' and 'scratch' and although she was stubborn and difficult and would rarely listen to me, at least she had the brainpower. And it may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn she was getting leaner and fitter. By now she was having regular mock battles with Stella and the occasional scuffle with random pokemon whom she didn't take to. As much as she did not win every fight that she picked, she had yet to be administered a serious enough beating to discourage her aggression.

One particular event, just days previous, came to my head. A four badge trainer's eevee had just evolved into an umbeon. I didn't know the trainer. Kit, though, had taken an dislike to the umbreon. It was an unfair battle as the umbreon was still trying to adjust to its new dark based attacks and different physical build, but Kit gave it a good fight. A zero badge trainer's meowth gave a four badge trainer's umbreon a run for its money. Umbreon aren't particularly big, whereas Kit was pretty huge for a female meowth - the size difference wasn't that great. But Kit knew what she was doing. When her claws weren't flying she was anticipating the slightly larger pokemon's movements and trying counter them. She performed admirably but the trainer withdrew his umbreon before the battle could conclude while I apologised profusely - although I was secretly happy with Kit's battle prowess..

The bottom line was that my team were coming along. Not quickly, but that was to be expected - pokemon training is something that takes years to become decent at and something that takes a lifetime to perfect. It's a lot of hard work, a lot of understanding and a lot of time. And that's putting it simply. The public who watch the battles on their TV screens and at live shows see the final work in action but they don't look further than that, they don't look at the blood, sweat and tears that go into making the trainers and the teams. That's something that only we see and know.

"When you going to challenge Whitney?" Luke asked me some time later - maybe an hour or two.

"Whenever I've taught Len here another two commands," I replied, smiling to myself. I knew how I could take her. I knew it would work.

"Only two? Are you for real?" He asked as he raised one eyebrow at me.

"Um...yeah," I replied a bit awkwardly. How else can you really reply to that question, you know?

We heard footsteps approaching and cast each other a glance simultaneously. It was Whitney. We both knew it. Without even seeing her, we could just tell. Whitney was that kind of character.

"A kecleon?" She asked, mouth hanging open like she'd just noticed I had two heads. Taken aback a little and with no idea what to say, an awkward pause followed.

"I told him not to," Luke piped up, holding his hands up in an only-sane-man gesture.

"Good call," she opined, nodding her agreement.

"He's got it into his head that he can beat you if he teaches it three commands," Luke went on. Dickhead.

"Well..." Whitney trailed off. A look of contemplation crossed her face, maybe trying to think of how a two foot lizard could stand up to a gym leader when she simply replied "good luck," and walked off.

Had I been a little older I would have told her straight up that I was going to fucking smash her into the ground on my first try, and as for Luke? I'd have went in and out through him for trying to make an arse of me. But being the age I was, my only reply was silence.

And then I got it into my head that I was going to get this gym's badge before Luke did. I was going to get the necessary training under my belt and I was going to do it. It didn't matter to me that Niles could fell most pokemon if he landed a single bite or that Stella was one hundred percent obedient or that my team was nowhere near as good currently, I decided I was going to do it before Luke.

"How are you going to take Whitney?" I asked him. It was an innocent enough question. You know, just curiosity between friends. But underneath that, there was a method. I was analysing.

"Huh?" He asked, then caught up with what I had asked. "Well, I'm teaching Niles to go for the legs. If he breaks a leg it ends the round. So I'm kind of relying on him. But Stella's no pushover herself, she's my backup. She does what she's told and she's got some pretty great footwork. And she's a dog so she's got amazing stamina. She might scrape me a win I fuck it up with Niles," he explained.

Right. So he was going to use Niles as a mostly stationary trap. Not a bad idea. He could take some punches before he needed bailing out as well. I was more sceptical about Stella. Sure, she was good, but I didn't think she was yet good enough to really be much use in this coming battle.

"Fair," I replied simply.

And I would say that's the moment a rivalry started.

You see, I always remember my time at the Goldenrod gym fondly. Even when Luke was being an opinionated prick, even when Whitney was being a confrontational bitch, even when my social ineptitude smothered me, even when I wanted to tear my hair out over my stressful and difficult team, I always remember it fondly. Because training was new. Because training was exciting. Because I really had the drive to try and train. And to get better than Luke.

It was because of that burning drive really. It was the first time in my life I had felt it. Studying for exams and tests, I had done diligently, obsessively even. I had been driven to do them. But it was a different drive. My drive to study and do well had been robotic and stable. I had been playing against myself. But training in the gym, my drive was volatile, explosive even. I was playing against someone else now.

It was on.

* * *

><p><em>I know my track record is atrocious. This is my first entry since the day I bought Len - and I didn't even finish that entry because Luke interrupted me. That's at least a few weeks with no entries. Sorry, I know I swore I was going to write every day, but who ever actually keeps their promises?<em>

_Well I guess I'll make it a long entry to make up for it. God knows I have enough to write about, filling the space should be easy._

_Well, Wes, Luke and I have a new room mate. His name's McDeil. Well actually his name's Daniel, but his second name's McDeil so that's what we call him. Largely, he's boosted my confidence. Not intentionally, but the simple fact that he's not the brightest yet has two badges already fills me with hope. If he can do it, I can too, right?_

_I feel bad saying that. McDeil's a really nice guy._

_But yeah. I'm enjoying life here. I have friends. Who I speak to. And who speak to me. And it's strange because I don't have much experience of that. I've never been very social if I'm honest with myself, and I've always wanted to be. Maybe I'm getting a bit of that now. I mean, I'm still not what you would call chatty or anything, but at least I talk to people on a semi regular basis and have human interaction with people who aren't family members._

_I feel different. A couple of friends and I feel like I'm popular. I hope it keeps going this way. I want to be friendly and social. I want to be able to talk to people all easy and natural, you know? I want my family to visit me or for me to visit them and just launch into conversation and shock them. They would never expect that. In fact I don't even know how they would react._

_How do you react when one of the people closest to you comes back after a long holiday having turned into a different person?_

_That's never happened to me before so I wouldn't know._

_Well, on another note, there's Len as well. I know this is bad, but Len's my favourite already. I feel bad having a favourite. Just like I felt bad saying earlier that I think I'm better than McDeil._

_But it's true though. Kit's a moody, evil little beast. Len's a kecleon. He can stick to the surface of walls, has like a ten metre tongue, can climb like no one's business and he can blend in with his surroundings to the point where he's basically invisible. Christ his eyes even move independently of each other. He's so interesting to watch. And there's not an inch of maliciousness in him. He's not intelligent enough for that kind of thing. In fact, I can almost see the gears turning in his primitive little brain. It's fascinating._

_And it doesn't hurt that I've always found lizards and frogs to be absolutely and utterly adorable creatures._

_Kit, though, is clever. I can see her mind working at super speed, trying to figure out how to best exploit any possible weaknesses her opponents may possess. I think it's a natural thing, you know? Evaluating the fight and figuring out what the best way to deal with it is. But she revels in it. She loves violence. She loves to hunt and kill and fight and I think, if she was feeling up to it and I turned my back, she'd slaughter me too. I mean, she did that to my leg when she was irritated. What would she be capable of if she got angry or scared?_

_I hope I never find out._

_On a more personal and less business oriented note, I'm not feeling homesick anymore. Not even a little bit. In fact, I hardly even think about my parents any more. And I never think about my sister. They're distant memories of life long behind me. In fact when I mentioned them earlier in the entry that was the first time I had even remembered their existence in days. To be perfectly honest, it feel surreal when I think back to my life before training._

_It's not a life that I want back._

_And I know that's bad to say that, but I'm not one to deceive myself. Or at least that's what I'd like to think. I don't suppose I can really make a fair, unbiased judgement on that particular topic, can I?_

_But nevertheless, I feel like I belong, that I'm fitting in. I feel like I'm same species as these people. Before I always felt like a loner and a freak and loser. But not any more. I'm surrounded by people that I feel the same as. That's not to say I don't feel awkward ninety percent of the time because I still do, but at least it's not a constant and primal fear of the internal judgement of my peers._

_But at least it's something. But maybe that's what happens when an isolated individual finally returns to others of their species._

_I am not a human. I am a trainer. And we are a different breed._

_I wish I could spill thoughts as freely with other people as I do with you. I could do that, I suppose. Whenever I talk to someone I could just pretend that I'm writing in my diary and that I'm talking to you instead of them. Maybe that would help. But if I do that I risk wading into existential crisis territory, as I do so often when I write._

_I'm rambling now. That tells me that my entry is coming to a close. Well, I told you it would be a long one and I was right, wasn't I?_

_Until next time,_

_Champion in the making, Trainer J._


End file.
